


ripped at every edge

by cxrranam



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Biting, Dirty Talk, Don't do it, I regret everything, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pynch (mention), Sad Sin, Sadness, Smut, don't ever think about sad kavinsky who just wants to be loved, rovinsky, there are feelings, there is angst in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxrranam/pseuds/cxrranam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When K had dared to imagine have Ronan’s body bowing under his touch, he had never anticipated it would be on a cold Virginia night, with bracken and fingernails tearing at their skin and the orange glow of streetlamps - not sunlight - illuminating the sharp lines of their bodies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ripped at every edge

**Author's Note:**

> there are actual feelings in this so I feel like I need to clarify that I do not in any way condone K's actions in The Dream Thieves. thank you enjoy the angst.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this; angry and dirty and heavy beside the trees next to the motorway. Every time Kavinsky dared to imagine shoving his tongue down Ronan Lynch’s throat, it had taken place in Monmouth, or while they fazed in and out of reality on the backseat of a white Mitsubishi. It had been slow and lazy, soft breaths steaming up the car windows or legs tangled in off-white bed sheets. It had been the gentle caress of sunlight on bare skin; of hands and lips and fingertips.

 

When K had dared to imagine have Ronan’s body bowing under his touch, he had never anticipated it would be on a cold Virginia night, with bracken and fingernails tearing at their skin and the orange glow of streetlamps - not sunlight - illuminating the sharp lines of their bodies. Only once had he imagined sinking his teeth into Lynch’s shoulder to hear him cry out into the night, and he had been in a particular foul post-dream haze.

 

Nevertheless, he wasn’t complaining when Ronan dug his bitten-down nails into K’s back, so deep that he knew there would be cruel red crescents all over his back for the next few days at least. He certainly wasn’t complaining when he ground his hips down into Ronan’s, and felt the hard press of his cock restricted in his jeans.

 

It didn’t matter where they were, or the fact that K’s jaw was throbbing from where Ronan had previously punched him, or that everything he was feeling felt like he was walking a tightrope a thousand feet above the ground. It felt like the roar of his engine, the rumble of the gear-stick under his fist. It felt like he’d doused them both in gasoline, and every touch brought him closer to striking a spark.

 

Naked from the waist up, Kavinsky dragged his tongue from Ronan’s navel to his nipples, peaked in the cold night air. With his teeth, he tugged at Ronan’s chest and watched his back arch as he fought against the burst of pain. 

 

He was going to pay for this later, once Ronan realised what was happening. He was going to fuck him up with his fists in his face, and K was going to love every second of it.

 

K let his hand trail lower. He pushed his fingers under the waistband of Ronan’s expensive jeans, not quite touching what Ronan wanted him to touch - not quite touching what  _ he _ wanted to touch. 

 

He dragged his teeth over Ronan’s chest again, and the boy released a low, frustrated groan. It was as close to begging as Ronan was going to get without any prompting. He had already sunk so low as to let K touch him like this.

 

The bitterness crept into Kavinsky’s voice as he growled, “Tell me you want this, and you can have it.”

 

Slowly, teasingly, K dragged Ronan’s jeans down his legs and tossed them to the damp earth beside them. Then, he pushed down Ronan’s underwear, just slightly, enough that the material dragged against his cock, achingly far away from the friction he truly wanted.

 

“Just a few words, you can manage a few words can’t you, Lynch?” Kavinsky purred. “Or are you so much of a pussy that you can’t even use your manners?”

If he didn’t know, he would think that Ronan had  _ grumbled _ , but it was more likely a growl of defiance. Anything for him to ignore the fact that it was Kavinsky’s teeth making marks on his torso, or Kavinsky’s hand sliding down one of his thighs.

 

K sharply pinched the skin of his thigh, and Ronan yelped, but K quickly flattened a hand against his stomach to keep him pressed against the ground. The hand that had pinched his thigh wrapped around Ronan’s dick, and twisted once, twice, three times. His thumb skimmed over the head, spreading the precum it found there.

 

Then, he leaned as close to Ronan’s face as he could until their lips were nearly touching, but not quite. 

 

Quietly, as scathing as he could, he uttered, “Beg,” and twisted his wrist.

 

Lynch’s hands dropped from K’s back to the ground, and began to grapple in the dirt. His lips were pressed tightly shut, and his eyes were the same.

 

Before he could stop himself, Kavinsky raised his hand and slapped Ronan around the face at the same moment he jerked his fist around Ronan’s dick. To his surprise - though he shouldn’t have been surprised - Ronan’s dick twitched and more precum slid from the top.

 

A laugh fell from Kavinsky’s lips. “You sick fuck,” he spat. At least Lynch’s eyes were open now. K could see his chest heaving with every breath, sucking in air but not oxygen. He was clinging to the edge of climax, nearing the dark abyss.

 

K broke all contact with Ronan as if his body burned him. Maybe it did. Maybe it would if he could feel anything at all other than the ticking bomb inside his chest and the hollowness behind his eyes.

 

Ronan fucking  _ whined _ . K leaned over him, lips twisting into a smirk as Ronan crashed back to earth. For the first time since K had tackled him to the ground, Ronan looked at him. His eyes pleaded with him. K’s chest ached. Ronan wanted to feel something as much as he did. That was why he spent nights in his shitty BMW, cruising the shitty streets of Henrietta, looking for shitty fights that could never, and would never end well.

 

He didn’t even have to say anything. 

 

Kavinsky pushed his own pants down his thighs, spat into his palm, took both their cocks into his hands and began to beat them off. Ronan keened, throwing his head back. Desperate gasps fell from his mouth, and K thought maybe  _ he  _ was groaning too, feeling the way they slid together again and again. Every sharp edge in them began to fray, even just for a moment. 

 

He could see that Ronan was grappling at the edge again, his body trembling with his impending orgasm. But it wasn’t enough. The drag-racing, the fight and the blood, the teasing; it still wasn’t enough.

 

K leaned down enough that his lips grazed Ronan’s ear. “You can say his name if you want… trailer trash. Nobody will even know.” Ronan remained silent. “Think of him fucking you, Lynch. Say it. Go on.”

 

“Adam-” His name was a broken plea to Ronan. It was a serrated knife in Kavinsky’s stomach.

 

K twisted his wrist. “You want him to fucking rail you, don’t you? You want that redneck to fuck your brains out.”

 

Ronan came wordlessly, his mouth open in a silent cry. K closed his eyes, and followed him over the edge.

 

He got up and buttoned up his jeans. Sparing Lynch only one parting glance, he got in his car and let the purr fill the void in his chest. The gasoline had burned him out. The bomb had ticked to zero. Kavinsky was an empty shell of what he could have been. This wasn't how it was supposed to be; it was how it would always be.

  
He parked the Mitsubishi in the field with the rest, and dropped away from reality.

**Author's Note:**

> i give all emotions to rebecca this is no longer my responsibility


End file.
